“Positive,” she says, reaching down and positioning my cock at her entrance.
There’s no turning back now. I slowly ease into her, her feral moan spurring me to keep going until I’m fully inserted. I still, catching my breath as I try to focus on what I’m doing, but that feels next to impossible. She feels so tight and warm around me. I swear, if there wasn’t a condom between us, I’d have come just from penetrating her, from the look of absolute satisfaction on her face when I sank into her.
“So perfect,” she says. “You feel so perfect in me.” Her legs wrap around my waist, and she connects her hands with mine, bringing them above her head.
Instead of moving my hips right away, I bring my lips to her heated skin and play with her nipples, lapping at them, pulling on them just enough with my teeth to extract a hiss from her, and sucking on them so her chest lifts off the bed.
“Yes, Lincoln. God, you’re so good at this.”
Trailing kisses back to her neck, I glide my tongue over her collarbone and then run my nose along the column of her neck. Her hips start to move as she groans into my ear when I kiss her jaw.
I don’t give in to her eagerness. I trail my lips all the way to her mouth and then lift up a few inches. Her eyes open, those mossy-green beauties full of lust, and then I crash my mouth into hers as I pulse my hips.
I capture her moan in my mouth and run my tongue along her lips, parting them so our tongues can meet. Her lips are warm and sweet, contradicting the desperation of her tongue. Her legs dig into my back, trying to help control the pace of my thrusts, but I hold strong as her hands grip mine tighter.
Her head pulls away and she lets out a long breath. “Oh my God, Lincoln, please. I need more. You have me on the edge.”
“Good,” I say, bringing my mouth back to hers, drinking in her sweetness and living out the moment, prolonging it as much as— “Oh fucking hell,” I say, my head falling to her shoulder.
“Do you like that?” she asks, contracting her pussy around my aching cock.
“Indie, don’t.”
“Don’t what? Do that?” she asks as I pulse into her.
“Jesus . . . fuck,” I hiss. My balls tighten, my mind starts to fade as everything around us begins to blacken. “Indie, I won’t last.”
“Good. Make me come.”
She releases my hands and reaches between us where she presses on her clit. I feel her pussy contract around me, and I can’t help it, my hips spike forward, faster, harder. I move her hand and replace it with mine, making circles over her clit.
Her torso stiffens, her cries get louder, and her hands go to the back of my neck as an anchor while I pump into her, over and over again until I can’t feel anything else but the sensations pulling into my groin.
“Babe, I’m—”
“Oh God,” she yells as she spasms beneath me, her pussy contracting so tight that I feel like I can’t move.
It’s my undoing.
My body stiffens and unbridled heats rips through me as my cock swells inside Indie. Once again, euphoria hits me so hard, I black out as my cock spills inside of her.
Fuck . . . ahh, fuck.
Aftershocks hit both of us, spasms keeping us under the spell of our pleasure. I collapse on top of her and roll us both to the side so we can catch our breaths.
Our foreheads connect and when we finally open our eyes, our gazes meeting, we laugh at the same time, then I capture her lips. I find her breast and squeeze it while I make out with her, feeling so fucking happy.
So fucking grateful.
After a brief make-out session, I pull away and whisper, “Christ, Indie, that was . . . that was the best I’ve ever had.” I don’t mind making the admission, because it’s true. This girl just rocked my world upside down. I’m in a post-sex daze—numbers running into letters, not knowing where I am, who I am, what I’m doing kind of daze.
“I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard,” she says softly, caressing my cheek. “I think you ruined me for the rest of my life.”
“At least we had fun doing it,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and encouraging her to rest on my chest.
We lie there for I don’t know how long, but after what feels like hours, Indie climbs back on top of me and takes what she wants. We have sex three more times and each time, I keep wondering how it can keep getting better. I’ve had sex with a lot of girls. Single guy. Adrenaline. Willing participants. But nothing compares to sex with Indie. Nothing. The sexual compatibility. The welcome intensity. God, even the laughter. She’s sexy, confident, and brilliant. Absolutely mind-fucking-blowing. And she’s all mine.
“Woo, looking good in there, Castle,” Knight, our shortstop says, peering into the bullpen.
“He’s popping the shit out of my glove,” Louis, my catcher adds, standing from his squatted position. “I think you could hit it today, man.”
I shake my head. “Nah, I don’t think I’m ready.”
“I think you are,” Disik says, coming up next to me with a radar gun in hand. He stands behind me and nods toward Louis. “Let’s see if those workouts have been working,” Disik says with a slight frown. Not sure if the guy knows how to smile. But I can’t really focus on that at the moment. The man who has trained me for the last two years, who believed in me when I was eighteen, that man believes I can throw ninety-five. Fuck.
Retrieving the ball from Louis, I rub it between my palms, my glove tucked under my arm, and then get settled into my position on the mound. I can only hope I don’t let Disik down.
Believe in yourself, Castle. You’ve worked fucking hard for this. Get it done.
I hold my glove up, look down at the catcher, lift my leg, and bound off the mound, my chest leading first and then my arm following through. The ball sails down the shoot and straight into Louis’s glove with a snap.
I turn to Disik with hope. He doesn’t look at me, doesn’t even flinch. “Again.”
Hope disappears.
I wasn’t ready.
I get the ball back and repeat the pitch.
Disik makes me repeat it eight more times. After the tenth pitch, he lowers the radar gun, hands it to our equipment manager, and then just stands there, arms crossed, staring at me.
I try not to shift under his strong gaze, waiting for him to talk.
“You’ve been training?”
“Yes, sir. Upping my weights in the weight room and then working with Indie Mayhem on leg endurance and strength.”
He grips his jaw and nods. “It’s been working. You just threw nine out of ten pitches hitting ninety-five.”
“What?” I ask, surprise taking over. “Are you serious?”
He nods. “Yes. Keep it up, Castle.”
And then he takes off.
Holy Fuck.
The sound of Louis’s gear bounding toward me has me bracing for impact as he congratulates me.
Shit . . . I did it.
I hit fucking ninety-five, which means one thing: I’m that much closer to the major leagues.
And there’s only one person to thank.
Because she believed in me too.
I contemplate whether going to celebrate with Indie is okay, given the women’s soccer team was eliminated from the championships this past weekend, but hell. I need to see her, so I go barreling up her steps and knock on the door.